SCATMAN.

YUP. The title says it.
There is this guy. He's about sixty something I reckon. Overweight, walks with a cane, wears overalls. Comes in very clean, sits and chats with the server. Orders water and a soda and then gets his food. He eats, and sits reading the paper or anything he can get his hands on: reads until the urge hits him. Then he gets himself up out of the booth and makes his way to the men's room,at which time I sigh heavily and go get my elbow length black rubber military chemical handling gloves, my bleach water, a handful of towels and a trash bag. And I wait.
About fifteen minutes later he emerges...sits down at the booth, and I steel myself to go in and check. Once in a while he's done nothing more than pee (and he doesn't flush). But usually he has crapped all over the toilet. Sometimes he gets it on himself, and some on the floor, too. And I clean it up and grumble and swear I'm going to ban him from the bathroom. I wash my hands and arms then sanitize them while imagining how I can keep him out of the restroom in the future.
But the other day he came in, did the same routine, then when he came out and sat back down, I knew I was in trouble. Because he had shit all over him. I use the word shit because it is a powerful thing, shit. Especially when you are faced with cleaning up copious amounts of it. I had my buddy the cook go in to scout the situation (and to witness it (!) because people think I'm making it up) and when he came out he looked as if he had seen a... no strike that. He looked like a ghost. I thought he was going to pass out on the floor.
I got my cleaning supplies and went into the bathroom. The moment I opened the door I had to fight to keep my gorge down. I have never seen so much human feces scattered loosely in one place. And I used to work at an old folks' home. It looked like someone had set up a sentry gun that was loaded with SCAT and when the old man came in he got nailed with it. I was busy, too. I had biscuits in the oven I needed to attend, I had full bus tubs that needed emptying, I had food to prep. I had a handful of things I needed to be doing, and taking ten minutes to clean the bathroom put me not only in a bad mood, and made me ill, but it put me way behind. And the sad thing is, no one else saw it but the cook. The server was oblivious to the shit all over the guy. They all wondered what I was doing when I hauled the trash can out to prop the door open, and was throwing everything in site into it to haul back to spray down (the toilet brush, the plunger, etc. all had to be washed and sanitized a few times over). The trash can itself was covered. The man had obviously tried to clean it up (and in the process covered the paper towel dispenser and the soap dispenser!) but to little avail. I was overwhelmed with the task, and ill-equipped (OH WHY did I not bring my gas mask to work that day???), and found myself just spraying the entire room down with bleach water. OF COURSE I had worn my clogs that day: the clogs with the holes in the top. (I had ordered proper footwear but it hadn't arrived yet) So I had shit on my socks! I had to wash my clogs and change my socks (I have been dealing with an ingrown toenail and the doctor had advised me to wear roomier shoes and change my socks often). So!
I drag all that feces covered stuff back to the dish room and begin washing it in the mop sink, I wash my shoes, and I can't breathe. I feel shaken to my core, and I comment to the cook that for some weird reason cleaning that bathroom has fucked me up: I haven't felt that way since the time in basic training when they were firing live rounds over our heads! I had a hard time recovering from that bathroom experience and I know it was made worse by the knowledge that that man will come in again and there is nothing I can do to stop it, and I will always be expected to clean up after him. As I was cleaning up his mess, he was sitting only a few feet from me, talking calmly with another 'regular' ... who also didn't notice the shit all over the man. The scatman finally got up to leave and calmly began walking out, and had the nerve to turn to me and say "You be good now!"
The conflicting emotions within me were hatred for my boss for making me clean that up (he didn't make me, I just know it's my job) every time that guy comes in, hatred for my boss not telling the man he can't go in the bathroom and do that every couple of days... and pity for the man himself. But really, if you know you are going to cover the bathroom in shit every single time you eat at a place, why go there? I want to tell him I don't get tips, and it's hard enough working there without the extra crap he looses in there for us. Now I have a very hard time going in the men's room to change the tp or paper towels: I know I didn't get all that shit. And I can't get the smell out of my mind. And I hate to htink of what sort of emotional reaction I'm going to have the next time he comes in and sits in the same booth (the one we employees use to eat at!)(which is by the way the only cool spot in the diner.)